


eyes on fire

by wrenity



Series: devil town [1]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: (or is he?), Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Blood and Violence, Demons, Fluff, Human Dream, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Magic, Mild Language, Multi, Self-Denial, Witch Sapnap, Witch george, rated t because of tommyinnit., thank you dream for that tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-25
Updated: 2021-01-25
Packaged: 2021-03-18 01:48:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28984371
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrenity/pseuds/wrenity
Summary: There is only darkness, the pounding of feet against bare earth, and the sensation of being hunted.or;Dream finds a family, is hunted, and has a place to call home. Just not in that order.
Relationships: Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound/Sapnap (Video Blogging RPF)
Series: devil town [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2126097
Comments: 11
Kudos: 140





	eyes on fire

…

There is only darkness, the pounding of feet against bare earth, and the sensation of being hunted.

His feet burn, the skin rubbed raw by the rough dirt. Dream pays it no mind, pushing forward against the burning in his lungs, the ache in his side. He can’t stop, nor can he quit, because to give up would mean his end. 

It’s an endless chase. No matter where he runs to, somehow, some way, they always find him. They always do. And yet, Dream can’t find it in himself to give up, not quite yet. For his sisters, for his mother, he will live. And until his pursuers wrench the determination from his chest, he’ll fight. 

_Live, Dream_ , his mother had said, bloody fingers pressed against his perspiring temples. Live for us. 

The fleeting memory sets a new fire ablaze within him, and he picks up his speed, barreling through the woods with all the grace of a bull in a delicate china shop. He’s thrown his hunters off his trail by a wide margin, but it will never be enough. Dream will have a few weeks at least, a few months at most. 

That reassurance should be enough to calm him down, but paranoia sets in like it always does. Shadows grow, branches shake overhead. He shivers. 

Deep within the forest, Dream allows himself a moment's respite to rest his hands on his knees, utterly exhausted. Blood drips down from a cut wound near his forehead, straight into his right eye, turning his field of vision red. Small cuts litter his body, both from the wily forest around him and from those who seek to kill him. 

If his heart could beat, it would be going a mile a minute.

His desperate pace slowly fades into a slow, steady stride. He feels like an animal clawing at the grip of an iron trap, but he walks to save his strength. The forest is thick around him, the thick summer air cloying his senses. Dream allows himself a brief pause to attempt to look up through the foliage. A starry night sky peeks out at him from between the leaves, taunting. 

His procession through the forest is slow, the panic from before seeping out from his bones and morphing into a mind-numbing tiredness. He’s exhausted, and he can feel it all the way down to his core. Dream knows he can’t go on much longer, eyelids fluttering, feet dragging against the worn earth. 

The _worn_ earth. 

Dream blinks back to alertness, crouching down to drag his fingers against the dirt. There’s footprints here, pressed into the ground. Here, deep in the heart of the forest, where no one should be. And yet, he can see a trail blazed into the dirt, worn from what must be years of feet beating into the ground. 

A sign of life. A sign of possible shelter for the night. 

He doesn’t need to sleep, not usually, but after the cuts and bruises beaten into him, and the long trek into the forest, Dream could use a few hours of rest. He’ll take all the time he can get before his pursuers catch up to him. 

With a renewed interest, Dream continues forward into the depths of the forest. As he walks, the trees grow even thicker, obscuring what little moonlight there had been and blacking out the stars. His eyes struggle against the shadows, barely making out the path ahead of him. And still, Dream grits his teeth, the promise of somewhere to stay keeping him going. 

Eventually, the trees fade before him, and it’s just Dream, a large clearing, and a cabin. 

The cabin is rounded at the edges, he notices. Light bleeds out into the night from the windows, flickering and faint. Firelight. There’s another building to the side of the cabin, all glass and metal, almost like… a greenhouse? It’s a strange juxtaposition to the old fashioned wood of the cabin. 

Dream slowly creeps forward, wary. Something feels off. Perhaps this is yet another trap that’s been laid for him. He almost turns tail and runs back into the forest, but the tantalizing sight of the cabin is too much for him to resist. Maybe some kind locals would let him stay for the night. Maybe he would be lucky for once, and someone would show him kindness. 

He jumps when he hears something banging within, as though someone had fallen. Dream waits for a few moments with bated breath, pausing at the edge of the clearing. Suddenly, the door flies open, and he jumps back in surprise, fleeing to the cover of the trees. 

“Hello?” 

Dream holds his breath, peeking around the trunk he’s hidden behind. A shadowy figure stands at the threshold of the door, illuminated by the flickering light. A few moments pass, and a second figure joins the first. Dream considers slipping away into the forest completely, but something keeps him there, as though he’s been entranced. 

“I know you’re there,” the voice returns again. It’s velvety, warm. Dream almost wants to show himself, but he knows better than that. “Um,” it says, “we don’t want to hurt you. I know you’re hurt, too. We can help.” 

And it’s oh so tempting. To be helped, to be shown kindness. But still, he’s wary. He can never let his guard down, or he’ll die. Dream sighs, fingers touching the cut on his forehead, dipping into the dripping blood. 

_Live, Dream. No matter what._

He inhales once, twice. And then he steps out from behind the tree.

He can hear a shaky inhale from the person who had called out to him, as though they were surprised he listened. Dream holds his hands out in front of him as he encroaches on the cabin, ready to flee or fight, and the shadowy figures begin to sharpen. There’s two men standing before him, one wary, one curious. He can hear the fast beating of their heartbeats. It’s fair enough, he supposes. It’s probably not every day someone stumbles across this cabin. 

Dream reaches the bottom of the steps leading to the cabin, running his tongue over sharp teeth. “You’re not going to hurt me?” He asks simply, quietly. He wants to believe it. But Dream has been betrayed, been hurt, far too many times before. This world isn’t safe for something like him. 

“No,” the man who had called out before says, shaking his head. He holds his hand out to Dream, who considers it for a second, eyes running over the worn, calloused palms. “I’m George,” he smiles shakily, and Dream grips the extended hand tightly, allowing himself to be helped up the stairs. 

It takes a few moments, but he’s led inside, which is far bigger than he expected. Far, far bigger than he expected from the outside. Almost… unrealistically. He tilts his head to the side as George sits him on a scratchy couch sat beside the dying fire. “Witches?” Dream takes a risk and asks. 

George and the other man share a look, a silent conversation exchanged. Then, they both simultaneously shrug at each other. “Yeah,” the other man finally says, voice just as nice as George’s. “I’m Sapnap, by the way.” 

Dream bites his lip. Giving away his name could be dangerous. Names have power, after all. He’s not even sure why the two witches had given away their names so easily to him. After a few moments of deliberation, he nods to himself. “I’m Dream,” he murmurs slowly, looking at the fire. He’s not even sure why he gave them his real name, in the end. It’s stupid, naive. But somehow, he feels safe here.

But he knows he can’t stay. Dream can never stay.

He hears the sounds of rustling, looking back as Sapnap as he gathers bandages and ointments. George has an inquisitive look on his face as he surreptitiously stares at Dream, and Dream can’t help but stare back, quirking an eyebrow. “What?” 

“Nothing,” George says, sat upon the arm of the couch, legs swinging back and forth rhythmically. “It’s just. You’re the first person to just… guess we’re witches. Are you…?”

It’s a silent question. It could go a thousand ways, but Dream gets it. 

_Are you supernatural, too?_

And he could tell them the truth. He could tell them all about his life, his being. Dream feels safe, here. But he knows safety is just a prelude to danger. Trusting in others will only make it harder for himself. So he grits his teeth and shakes his head. 

“I’m human,” comes the familiar lie. But this time, it’s bitter on his tongue. “I’ve just been around a lot of supernaturals, especially witches, so I know things when I see them.” He gives his best smile, and although it’s shaky, it must convince George, because the other man hums. 

“Well, I don’t know what happened, but you’re safe here, I promise.” 

And oh, how Dream wants to believe it. 

Sapnap comes to Dream’s side, kneeling on the floor and uncapping the top of one of the many ointments he’s brought with him. The substance burns against his skin, but quickly brings cool relief to the burns and scrapes against his skin. He flexes his toes after the ointment is pressed into the raw skin of his feet, reveling in the quick healing that only witches can bring. Maybe he was lucky that he stumbled across witches, after all. 

Finally, Sapnap brings gentle hands to Dream’s forehead, tongue poking out in concentration as he rubs gel across the scrape there. Dream wants to inch back, cowed by the little space between him and Sapnap, but he has nowhere to go. Finally, Sapnap leans back, and he breathes out shakily. “George, can you get me a wet cloth, please?” 

“Sure,” George replies, and it’s Sapnap and Dream alone for a few moments. “So…” Sapnap says. “What happened?”

Dream sucks in sharply. Does he lie, again? But he’s starting to feel guilty for deceiving the two, especially after the kindness he’s been shown. But if he told the truth, they would most definitely find out what he is. And then he’d be thrown back out into the night, cold and alone again. He shudders. “I was out late. Got caught up with some wraiths.” 

Lying comes so, so, easily. But it had never felt so terrible. 

If Sapnap picks up on the lie, he doesn’t comment on it. 

“That must have been scary,” he smiles. Dream fixes him with a look. “Not really.”

“Oh?” 

“I’m not afraid of some wraiths,” Dream bristles. 

“Sure, sure,” Sapnap replies amicably. George returns to a heated atmosphere. He says nothing, handing the cloth to Sapnap, who wipes the blood from Dream’s forehead tenderly. And really, Dream could be doing this himself. Should be asking to do it himself. But he’ll admit, it feels nice to be taken care of. So he sits back and lets Sapnap clean him up, keeping a sensible amount of distance between them. 

After Sapnap is done, Dream lets out a large yawn, eyelids fluttering. “Tired?” Sapnap says in that airy, teasing way of his that Dream is slowly growing accustomed to. “A bit,” he bites back, eyes challenging. “It _is_ late, after all, and I’ve been running for quite a bit.”

George, surprisingly, slaps Sapnap across the back of the head, who lets out an indignant cry. “Stop antagonizing our guest, Sapnap.”

Dream lets out a small laugh without realizing it, then pauses. It’s been a long, long time since he’s laughed. The stark realization is unsettling. 

But the other two have moved on without noticing his own inner crisis. “Get some blankets and a pillow or two, Sap.” 

Sapnap disappears for a few moments, and Dream stares into the dying embers of the fire, fixated. He only snaps back into focus when George rises from the armrest of the couch. “We can talk more in the morning, okay? Let’s just get you settled in.” Dream nods, satisfied by this plan. Gives him more time to think up a believable story, after all. 

But he also doesn’t want this moment to end. He’s warm, safe, and most of all, he’s in the company of others. It’s been so, so long since Dream has felt like this. Not since he was a child. He doesn’t want to leave. Tomorrow is the promise of moving on, of leaving. 

But Dream can’t have anything, can’t long for anything. He’s just a lonely creature on an eternal chase. 

So when Sapnap brings the pillows and blankets, he burrows into them quickly, quietly, with a rushed, “goodnight.” The other two return the sentiment and leave in a few moments, blowing out the fire and filing into a different room. 

Good. It’s better for Dream to not get too attached.

…

The next morning, he’s awoken to the smell of pancakes.

He hasn’t had pancakes in, what, fourteen years? It’s a jarring realization. It’s been a long, long time. Dream curls up for a moment before rising, wiping the sleep out of his eyes. 

He finds George and Sapnap at the corner of the cabin in a makeshift kitchen, struggling to make actually edible pancakes. It’s an amusing sight, so Dream allows himself a slight smile. It takes them a bit to realize he’s awake, but when they do, they offer him an entire plate of pancakes. It’s enough to feed a small family, at least. He stares down at his slightly burnt, misshapen pancakes, and embarrassingly, he finds tears gathering in his eyes. 

Dream sits at the counter numbly, still staring at the food. Shaking himself awake, he rubs at his eyes, clearing them of the droplets. But he sees the glance George and Sapnap give each other when he looks back up, notices the shift of the mood. Internally, he sighs. 

“Sorry,” he says, forcing a smile, subdued. “Thank you, these look really good.” 

George frowns. “You can have as much as you want, you know.” 

Dream nods miserably. Every time they show him kindness, it feels like another twist to the knife in his heart. He can’t stay, he can’t stay, he can’t stay, he reminds himself. His shoulders slump in.

“Damn,” Sapnap finally says after a few moments. “Are the pancakes really that bad?”

George hits him across the back of the head again. 

Dream laughs, this time heartier. “No,” he replies, mouth full. “They’re really good. Seriously. I’m just… thinking about stuff.”

“Oh,” Sapnap says, lifting a brow. “See, I knew you were scared of those wraiths.”

Dream glares in return. “I am _not_ afraid of wraiths, asshole.” 

George shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. They quiet down for a moment, and Dream offers to wash the dishes, hoping to repay some of the kindness he’s been shown before he has to leave, but George refuses, insisting that he’s the guest. They sit at the table in silence awkwardly, not sure where to start. Dream twists his hands together under the surface, mentally preparing himself. Here’s where he’s kicked out. 

“I can-”

“So where-”

He and Sapnap start talking at the same time, glancing at each other with gaping mouths. “You can go first,” Dream offers. “No, I insist,” Sapnap counters with a smirk, but he shakes his head. 

“Uh, so where… are you going?” Sapnap asks after a few miniscule seconds of consideration. 

“Oh,” Dream breathes out, staring down at his fidgeting hands. “I…” He doesn’t want to say it. It sounds so _pathetic_ when he puts it into words. George and Sapnap share _another_ familiar look. He’s getting quite tired of their mental telepathy, or whatever the hell it is witches are doing. 

“You can stay as long as you want,” George says softly, as though speaking to a frightened animal. Dream’s head snaps up. 

“But…” 

“It’s okay,” Sapnap says. “It’s not a problem.”

Dream can feel his expression twisting. No one has ever offered to let him stay. It should feel amazing, wonderful - but instead, he can only think of his spider web of lies he’s weaved to reach this point. He can stay, but at what cost? The hunters always find him. 

But… a few days couldn't hurt, right? Just a few days, and then Dream would leave. 

“Are you sure?” He whispers, “I don’t want to cause you guys any issues. What you’ve done is enough.” 

“Of course,” George replies, bright, and it’s all Dream can do to keep himself from tearing up again. “Thank you,” he smiles back, pretending like they weren’t the first people to offer him hope and safety and kindness since he was a child and his mother still braided his hair and made his meals. If there’s one thing Dream can do, it’s pretend. 

Witches are busy people, Dream learns. His first day with them is marked by a flurry of activity, whether it’s following George out into the green house and tending to the plants with him, or staying by Sapnap’s side as he flips through dusty books written in ancient languages even Dream can’t read. It seems as though there’s always something to do, and even though it feels as though it would get boring, being alone in the middle of the woods, they’ve found ways to keep themselves occupied. 

Dream himself is enamored by the large selection of texts kept by the witches. He’s not much of a reader, like he once was as a child, but to be fair, time spent on the run leaves little space for picking up books. 

Another thing he learns on his first day is that witches have different specialities. If he’s being honest, he doesn’t know much about witches in the first place, just a baseline amount of knowledge that enables him to recognize magic when he sees it. A kitchen witch, George calls himself. And he lives up to that name, carrying herbs into the cabin from the greenhouse and mashing them into pastes and ointments on the kitchen counter. It’s an intriguing sight, watching him work. 

Sapnap, he soon learns, is an eclectic witch. It’s in his nature to seek out and collect knowledge of spells and charms, just as it’s George’s nature to tend to the plant life growing outside the walls. 

But the most important thing he notices on the first day is that the cabin is warm. Warmed by love, by care. Sapnap and George have been together for a long, long time. Dream can see it in the way they react and respond to each other, the familiarity to their touches, the look they share when they find each other’s eyes. He almost feels guilty for intruding on them, but he shakes the feeling off.

_It’s not a problem,_ Sapnap had said. Dream repeats those words in his head a few hundred times over. _It’s not a problem._

The day ends with a late dinner. 

Dream insists on doing the dishes this time, and not even George can stop him. He’s slowly fitting into their dynamic, and it feels like coming home. He doesn’t want to think about the implications of that. 

The night comes with the warmth of the fire, blankets wrapped around him as he dozes off, and the promise of safety tomorrow, and the day that comes after it.

…

A few days turns into a few weeks.

Dream is unsurprised, but he can’t help but feel selfish. He wants this. He wants it all. He wants what he can’t have, because he’s a pathetic creature who is so used to running he can’t help but yearn to stay. Home is a word he hasn’t used in a while, but it’s one he’s come to associate with the cabin in the woods, and the people inside it. 

He forgets what it’s likely to be lonely. It’s dangerous for someone like him, and he knows it. 

Dream is living a bitter lie, dressed in deception and falsifications, and still, he lets himself be selfish. Because it’s his nature, he tells himself. 

And still, despite all that guilt, he still smiles, still laughs. George and Sapnap are wonderful. He falls into them easily, like they’re old friends who simply haven’t seen each other in a while. They’re easy. Easy to talk to, easy to become friends with, easy to long for more with. 

_Selfish, selfish creature,_ his mind whispers. Dream decides to ignore it. 

Something shifts a month into his stay. The days are long and filled with hard work, so most nights, Dream rests easy when he does sleep. The dreams that once plagued him are distant memories. However, soon enough, his tormentors come back in the form of a cruel nightmare, where everything he’s built around him the past month comes crumbling down, where he's left with nothing. Alone, again. 

Dream wakes up screaming. 

Sapnap and George are all around him, hands comforting, pressing him down, voices murmuring soft reassurances. He can’t seem to calm down, despite it all. 

They carry him into the room he’s never once seen throughout his stay. The place they retire to every night once the day’s work is done and Dream’s settled down to rest (even if he doesn’t sleep, he still has to pretend for their sake). There’s a single king sized bed, built of dark wood and a sweeping canopy. They lay him down in the middle, encroaching on either side, hands sifting through his hair, quiet reassurances in his ears. 

_It’s okay, Dream. You’re with us._

He’s reminded of when he was a child, crawling under the covers of his parents’ bed after a particularly rough nightmare. Dream can let himself pretend, for a moment, that he’s as safe as he was in those lost times. But then he remembered the lies, remembers the hunt, remembers the chase. He lets himself be comforted, but it settles heavy on his tongue, bitter. 

Hours later, with his cheeks finally dry, Dream falls asleep between them. His world fades out to the sound of Sapnap and George gently speaking above him, just as soft and gentle as before. 

Dream wakes in their bed, and from that point forward, he begins sleeping there permanently.

…

Another three weeks pass. George receives a letter.

“Phil and the others are coming,” he announces. Dream raises his head in interest. 

“It’s been a while,” Sapnap muses. “Any reason why?” 

“I think they just want to see us,” George replies. He glances at Dream. “Phil is an old friend of ours. He has a few adopted sons, so they’ll probably come over as well this weekend.”

Dream swallows heavily. The prospect of more people is daunting. 

“Okay,” he says simply. “Is he a witch, too?” 

Sapnap and George share another one of their looks. Dream hates when they do that. It feels like he’s being left out of something. 

“That’s the thing,” Sapnap says. “He’s, uh…”

Dream cocks an eyebrow. George huffs. 

“He’s a god.” 

“Oh.” Dream has heard of gods, but he didn’t think they just… walked around, and visited old friends like that. “Are his sons also…”

“No,” George shakes his head, “last I heard he has a vampire, a witch, and what was the last one? The new one?”

Sapnap shrugs. “Forgot.”

“Well, we can just ask when they come over, right?”

Dream nods slowly, but a bad feeling settles in, and it’s hard to shake. 

The week passes far too quickly for his liking. He wants things to stay the same. He’s a little afraid of change, he’ll admit. It’s just for a day, he tells himself. It’s not like anything terrible will happen.

But as soon as that lanky, blonde teen walks through the door of the cabin, Dream knows something is about to go wrong. 

The day of Phil’s visit is filled with preparations of dinner and dessert, and Dream himself helps out despite his limited cooking knowledge. After a few cooking mistakes, he’s instead delegated to cleaning the main entrance to the cabin. He doesn’t mind it too much. Cleaning is a little therapeutic, to him. 

He waits with bated breath, that bad, ominous feeling still settling over his head. Dream thinks George notices his apprehensive mood, because a few moments before the knock on the door comes, he gives Dream a long, reassuring squeeze with his hand. Sapnap comes to rest his chin on the crook of Dream’s neck as he cleans off the counter, wrapping around him with a comforting presence. 

Dream sighs. What did he do to deserve all this? 

Then, the door shakes under the force of a hand knocking against it. Dream jumps at the noise, moment utterly destroyed. Sapnap rushes to open the door as George unwraps the apron from his waist. Dream stands a few feet behind the couch, as though it’s a barrier between him and the outside world coming to invade the cabin. 

Hot summer air washes over him, and the first thing he catches sight of is a man in a green and white hat. He has a kind face, and hugs Sapnap upon seeing him. _Phil_ , he instantly recognizes, even without meeting him. He certainly has the presence of a god. 

Phil steps aside, ushering the people behind him to come in. A younger man with pink hair steps inside, regal and intimidating, as well as another man with curly brown hair, easygoing. But then, Dream spies _him._

Demons can deceive as many supernatural and natural creatures as they want, but they can never hide from each other. 

Dream and the boy stare at each other, mouths wide and gaping. He can see the boy’s horns peeking out from his curly blonde hair, the pointed tail swishing along with the wind. Red, red, red. It’s like time has stopped for him. Sapnap glances back at him, concerned after the boy paused in the midst of entering the cabin. 

George looks back and forth, growing more and more concerned, and steps forward, but-

“You’re a-”

Dream leaps forth and claps his hand over the boy’s mouth, perhaps faster than he should have under the guise of being a human. He shakes his head minutely at the boy, who raises his eyebrows. The boy raises his hands up, as though in a show that he means no harm, and Dream steps back. He flushes at everyone’s eyes on him, muttering a quick, “bathroom!” and flies into the shared bedroom. 

Upon closing the door, he stares into the mirror. 

Green. Green horns, green tail, eerily similar to the other boy’s. Just a few aesthetic differences. But enough to identity him as a demon to anyone who saw them. 

Dream looks down at his hands. Pointed fingernails. Claws. They’re shaking. He’s afraid. People don’t like demons. Once they know, they leave. Once they realize, they point their fingers. He’s come so close to being thrown out today. And it was all that boy’s fault.

He takes a moment, sliding against the wall, to steady his breathing. He doesn’t want to leave. Dream doesn’t want to be kicked out, least of all by George and Sapnap. 

He steadies his resolve, and steps out from the bathroom. “Sorry,” he says to their concerned glances. “Had some... issues.” 

The boy laughs behind a hand like the little demon he is. It feels like he’s being mocked. Dream gives him a death glare, and that only serves to egg him on more as he laughs tauntingly behind his adopted father’s back. 

The rest of the room continues on, despite the awkward beginning to the visit. Phil is kind, and it shows in his voice. Upon closer inspection, he has a broad pair of wings folded begins his back, colored like speckled snow.

“You remember my sons,” he says to Sapnap and George, “Techno and Wilbur,” he gestures to the pink haired man and curly brunette respectively. They both seem relatively uninterested by the small talk. The two witches nod. “Well, this is Tommy,” he brings the blonde teen to the front. He seems to preen under the attention. 

“I’m a demon,” Tommy says, a wide smile on his face, fangs poking out. Like it’s no big deal. Like it’s something he can be proud of. Not hunted for. 

Dream stares, open eyed. Sapnap seems to notice his strange reaction, because he grasps for his hand under the table, holding it tightly. He’s acting strange tonight, and he knows it. But he can’t help it. He _feels_ strange. And it is strange, to feel jealous of a teenager. But he wants to be able to tell someone what he is without fear. He wants to be who he is unapologetically, wants to stop the lies.

But he’s not under the protection of a god. He’s just a lonely demon wearing the disguise of a human, playing a game of house with two witches. 

He’s zoned out completely, but snaps back into focus when he hears his name. “... is Dream,” comes George’s voice, “he’s human.” 

Dream meets Tommy’s eyes. The other boy tilts his head, as though in question. He shakes his head. Tommy frowns. 

“Hello,” he says simply, ducking his head at the god and his sons. He feels as though he’s being scrutinized by the entire family, and the feeling of being watched causes him to squeeze Sapnap’s hand even tighter. What a strange family, he thinks. 

Soon enough, the awkward air melts into the steady hum of conversation, but Dream stays quiet, cowed. He’s too close to having his cover blown by a _child,_ of all things. But the child in question sidles up to him as Sapnap turns to the side, answering one of Phil’s questions. “So,” he says, dragging it out. “What’s that about?”

Dream cuts him a sharp look. “Don’t.”

Tommy raises a brow. “Please?” Dream adds. 

“Why not?”

“No.” 

“Come on.”

“ _No._ ”

Tommy sighs as though he’s the one under questioning. “That’s so boring. Fine.” 

And to Dream’s dismay, he starts _pouting._

After a few more seconds, he sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Alright. I’ll tell you later, okay? When we’re out of ear shot.” 

Tommy brightens immediately, giving him a conniving grin. Dream feels as though he’s lost. He catches the pink haired man’s (Techno’s?) eyes on him, watching his and Tommy’s exchange. He bites his lip. This is risky. If this child gives him up, he’ll-

Sapnap gives his hand another reassuring squeeze, and the tension bleeds out of him as fast as it came. Dream exhales slowly. It’ll be okay. He’ll just tell Tommy after dinner. Nothing will go wrong. 

He looks back at Tommy, who’s grinning with mirth. Maybe it would be more difficult than he thought.

…

Dinner is a strange affair.

He’s uncomfortably sat next to Techno, who’s been sizing him up all night. Dream keeps his spins straight, unwillingly stiff. It feels less like he’s being analyzed and more like he’s about to be eaten alive. Sapnap, George, and Phil continue to talk at one end of the table, while Wilbur and Tommy banter on the other side. Techno and Dream are sat right in the middle, silent.

Something Dream learns is that Tommy is _expressive._ And loud. And curses a lot. 

It’s so… jarring. From birth, Dream was told to keep his head down, keep quiet. Don’t cause trouble, don’t scream, don’t cry. Cry, they’ll find us. Shout, they’ll find us. Cuss, they’ll find us, drilled into his head _over and over and over_ again-

And yet, Tommy shouts, slapping Wilbur across the arm with a playful cry of, “bitch!” 

In turn, Wilbur is just as animated, clutching his arm with an overexaggerated cry, fake weeping with all the flair of an actor. “Gremlin child,” he mutters, and Dream expects Tommy to flinch, to show some sign of being hurt by a jab at his nature. But Tommy just grins.

Dream isn’t jealous. 

His plate is nearly untouched. 

Techno still stares out of the corner of his eyes. 

Sapnap and George are still engrossed in their conversation with Phil. 

And through it all, Dream feels the most lonely he’s felt in months, despite being surrounded by other people. He doesn’t eat dessert. 

Later, they gather by the fire. Sapnap and George sit on one side of the couch, almost on top of each other, and he burns. He sits on the loveseat closest to the flames, absently gazing into the hearth. Techno, Wilbur and Tommy sit on the other side, still engaged in their strange, familiar banter. Techno chips in every once in a while, voice strangely monotonous. Dream’s fingers tap against the worn fabric. 

He’s only snapped out of his haze when Tommy suddenly stands. “I’m gonna go out for a bit,” he announces to the room. Dream tilts his head. Was that Tommy telling him to meet him outside? Or was he reading too much into it? Would it be awkward for him to go out there too? Tommy leaves the cabin with a shut of the door, reluctant to drop a single clue. 

“He goes out a lot,” Wilbur says, and it takes a second to process he’s speaking to Dream. He hadn’t spoken a word to Dream that night, much less spared him a glance. “I think he likes the fresh air, or something.” 

“Oh,” he replies dumbly. He doesn’t have much else to say. Dream counts to one-hundred in his head, then stands as well, wordlessly headed for the door. 

Dream closes it behind him slowly, silently. Tommy doesn’t even notice him, head turned. 

He’s sitting on a log on the outer ring of the clearing, hands waving around like he’s… talking to someone? Dream peers into the steadily-growing darkness, eyes searching for another figure, but when he finds none, he grows even more disconcerted. 

“... was so cool, Tubbo. And then I-” Tommy cuts himself off, swiveling around on the log. “Oh. It’s you.” 

He’s dumbfounded, but he continues to approach. “Was I interrupting something?” He asks, eyebrows raised. 

Tommy grins. “I was just talking to Tubbo. I don’t think he’ll show himself to you, though.”

Oh. So he’s learned something else today, as well - Tommy is insane. Nice to know. “Okay,” he says, long and drawn out. “Can I sit?”

“Sure,” he pats the log next to him. Once Dream has settled in, he splays his fingers out expectantly. “You’re a bit of a mystery, you know.” 

“Why’s that?”

“You’re a demon, but you’re pretending to be a human. Why? You know that will never work out.” 

Dream huffs out a laugh. “You’re a demon, too. Shouldn’t you know why I would pretend to not be one?” 

“Of course I do,” Tommy says, voice taking on a strained, painful quality. “But I found people who are different. They don’t care that I'm a demon. It doesn’t matter, not anymore. They’ve accepted me for who I am.” 

“That’s different,” Dream insists. 

Tommy grins. “You know what I think, Dream?”

He raises an eyebrow, gesturing for Tommy to go on. 

“I think you’re a bit of a pussy, innit?” 

Dream gapes. And then he sees red. “You have _no idea-_ ”

“Pussy.”

“You’re such a-”

“Pussy.”

Dream fights off the urge to strangle a child tonight and barely wins. Tommy just looks smug, leaning in even closer. “I like Phil, you know? And if Phil likes someone, I assume they’re a good person. I don’t think those witches you’re living with will fault you for just being born as a demon.” 

He sighs. “It’s scary, okay? I don’t want to tell them I’ve been lying this whole time.”

Tommy huffs. “I’ve said my part. I’m not giving you love advice or whatever the fuck you need right now.” Dream flushes at the word _love._

“Is this you telling me to fuck off?”

“Yup,” he pops the p. “I’m still catching up with Tubbo, so get out.” He waves Dream away. Dream reluctantly follows, shaking his head at his antics. He thinks Tommy is a little too old for imaginary friends, but he digresses. He’s sure he was up to weird things at that age, too. 

The rest of the night goes smoothly. Tommy comes inside a few minutes later and gets right back into arguing with Wilbur. It’s not as lonely as before. Who knew an angry, loud child could actually make Dream feel better about certain things. 

But still, he’s not ready. He can’t tell. He can’t tell. It’s what his mother always said, what his father drilled into his brain. 

Soon enough, as the fire dies out, Phil and his sons prepare to leave. Tommy, Wilbur and Techno pass by him, but Techno lingers for a moment, brushing up against his shoulder. “You smell like Tommy,” he says, voice flat as ever. And then, he’s gone, the door far behind him. Dream stands still for a second, shocked. 

_Did that mean…_

Vampires have a keen sense of smell. Dream should have known better. 

He’s on edge for the rest of the night. George and Sapnap give him space, and he’s grateful, but he also craves their touch. He’s been lonely tonight. He’s felt distant. 

Dream knows. It’s taken time, but he’s realized. The way they look at each other, the way they touch each other, how could he not? And he’s stumbled into their lives, inserted himself right in the middle. It’s selfish. But he’s a demon, isn’t he allowed to be selfish? He wants, he wants, he wants. It’s unfair, but he desires to be theirs, the way they are each others. 

The conversation with Tommy flies into his mind as they lay beside him at night, sleeping.

_Love advice._

Dream doesn’t know what love is, not really. He’s a demon. He doesn’t even know his mother’s own face, the distant memory worn down by time. Dream knows the sensation of hands on his head, braiding his once long hair, he knows the warmth of his father’s hugs, the feeling of his sister’s hand in his own. But was that love, really? Memories of a time when he was happy, and made others happy in return? 

He glances over at Sapnap’s and George’s sleeping forms. Steady breaths in and out, in and out. Peaceful, quiet.

Dream does not know what love is, but he’s determined to find out.

…

One night, they go out together in the later hours, under the cover of the moon, Dream trailing behind them. They stare up at the moon, the light reflected back onto them, and sit on the grass in front of the cabin. When he throws them a questioning gaze, George replies simply, “autumn solstice.”

It must be something important to the witches. He sits behind them, but they gesture for him to come closer, to break into the space between them. It feels wrong, like he’s intruding, but Dream complies, scooting across the grass between them. 

It’s peaceful, calm. He’s never felt so comfortable in the open air. 

“What’s it feel like?” He finds himself breaking the silence. 

“Like I’m recharging,” Sapnap sighs. “We can feel the energy on nights like these, you know.” 

Dream hums. He gets it, kind of. He’ll let them soak it up. 

He lies back, hands cupping the back of his head, ankles crossed. The stars are bright this deep in the woods, far from civilization. 

Dream can feel himself smiling, reaching out to trace the constellations in the sky. His older sister had loved them, told him about each one that graced the celestial landscape. Dream had almost forgotten how much she loved the stars. 

He’s so immersed in his almost-forgotten memory he just about misses George and Sapnap’s gazes. Dream slowly blinks back to reality, to the present, and catches the equally fond smile on each of their faces. “What?” He half asks, half laughs, incredulous. 

Sapnap lays down next to him, draping himself across Dream. He’s incredibly touchy, Dream’s found. George soon follows suit. 

Sapnap smiles, tracing patterns across Dream’s collarbone with his finger. “Just wondering what you’re doing.” 

He inhales shakily. “My sister loved astronomy,” he starts. Dream sees both George and Sapnap perk up in interest out of the corner of his eye. 

It’s rare for Dream to open up about any parts of his past, much less talk about his family, despite the other two opening up a few times about relatives and other parts of their lives. He feels guilty about it, sometimes, but it’s difficult for him to… make himself remember. 

“When I was younger, my sister would always point them out to me, and I guess I picked some of it up. I thought I would have forgotten, but…” Dream points to a certain constellation. “Over there, it’s Aries. And there,” he points in a different direction, “that’s Andromeda.” 

“That’s incredible,” George says quietly. “I always wanted to learn about astronomy. Never really had the time, though.”

“I could teach you a bit,” Dream offers. “It’s been a long, long time since my sister talked to me about the stars, though. I might be a little rusty.”

“And… why is that?” Sapnap asks tentatively. George shoots him a look. Dream knows what they’re thinking. They think they’ve entered dangerous territory, that they’ll cross the line he’s carefully drawn around himself. But Dream thinks if it’s them, it’s okay if the line is crossed. It’s okay for him to go a little out of his comfort zone, but only if it’s them. 

Dream pauses. “My sister died, a long time ago.”

It’s silent for a moment. “I’m sorry,” Sapnap says. “I know that’s not enough, but I am.”

“It’s okay,” he replies softly. “It was a while ago. I was too young to really grieve her, or the rest of my family, for that matter. Didn’t have much time.”

George inhales sharply beside him, expression torn. “You…” 

“It’s okay,” Dream smiles, but it’s wobbly. 

“Have you been alone, this whole time?” Sapnap asks. It takes a long minute for Dream to answer. “I… I guess. I got used to it, so I’m okay.” His voice is shaky. 

George lifts himself up from beside Dream’s side, frowning deep. “You shouldn’t have to get used to it, Dream. You shouldn’t have to be alone.”

And Dream breaks. 

His hands come up to cup his face, but tears start slipping out anyways. Sapnap keeps his fingers pressed to Dream’s skin, a quiet reassurance. “You don’t have to be alone, not anymore,” he whispers, and Dream starts crying harder. “You know that, right?”

He wants to believe those words. He wants to believe he’ll never be alone again. He wants to believe he can have this forever. 

But Dream will have to leave, eventually. Soon. To protect them. He can’t be selfish anymore. Becoming attached was a mistake, and he knew it, knows it. It’s always been his weakness. But for now, he curls into Sapnap’s hold on him, fingers dragging George in closer. He’ll let himself have this, for now.

“I know,” he says, and when the darkest parts of his mind whisper sugar-coated insults, he can’t help but agree with them.

…

He intends to take Tommy’s advice, eventually.

But weeks pass, and Dream continues to live in his carefully crafted lie. Is it the sense of comfort? The safety of remaining hidden? 

Or maybe it’s the fact he’s never had to tell anyone he’s a demon. They either know and hunt him down, or remain clueless, and treat him as they would a human.

But the thing that stops Dream from telling them, most of all, is how George and Sapnap begin acting… different, after that night they lie under the stars. 

When they see him, their pulses speed up. Dream can find no other possible explanation than them fearing him. It’s all he’s ever known, fear. But it doesn’t explain the way they lean into his touches, the walks under moonlit stars, the way one night, George pulls him in closer than ever and he gets to play middle spoon, wedged between the only two people he’s come to associate with “love”.

It’s more than he ever thought he would have. 

Gentle, caring touches, ones void of hatred or vice. A place to call home, and people who fit the very same description. 

He can’t have it, he can’t have it, he can’t. 

Dream has to tell them and he has to leave. He’s a liability, a danger. He’s almost forgotten he’s actively being hunted, and once his hunters find him, they won’t stop at anything to finally wipe him clean from this earth. They would even kill innocents who choose to associate with Dream. 

And yet, the days pass. Dream presses every bitter-sweet memory into the recesses of his mind, so he can look back on the way Sapnap’s cooking smells and the feeling of George’s fingers pressing against his skin when he’s finally alone again, on the run. They’ll be the memories he treasures, then. 

Relics of a time long gone.

One night, as they sit by the fire, Dream hunched in on himself, the moment is interrupted. “Why do you always look like that?” George asks Dream curiously. He whips his head around, prepared to flip him off at what he perceives as the usual teasing remark, but he soon pauses at George’s serious expression. 

He frowns. “Like what?”

“Like you- like you’re on standby. Or something.”

“Yeah,” Sapnap hums from his other side. “You’re not going anywhere, are you?” It’s a stark insecurity covered in a comedic tone. Typical Sapnap.

“I’m-“

Dream pauses. Now is his time. He can tell them, he can leave. Dream never has to come back again, never has to put them in danger. It’s the perfect opportunity. 

The words catch in his throat. 

He doesn’t want to leave. He so desperately wants to stay, wants to preserve this, to be with them. Dream feels like he’s five years old again, clinging to his mother’s legs, begging for something he can’t have. 

“You don’t have to leave,” George whispers quietly into his ear. Dream doesn’t want to cry again. It’s embarrassing. So he keeps it buried, for once. If his shoulders shake a little, neither of the men beside him comment, just scoot in a little closer, until they’re all pressed together in one big huddle.

“We want you to stay, Dream,” Sapnap says, chin tucked into the crook of his neck. 

“I- I want to stay, too.” _But I can’t._

“Good,” George smiles, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek. Platonically, Dream has to remind himself. 

He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. Why does he always want what he can’t have?

They fall asleep in front of the fire, hands clasped together, hearts beating in tandem.

…

Things come to a head as winter steadily approaches, bringing with it a cool chill to the air.

It’s a quiet, peaceful day. George sits before a pot in the island in the kitchen, measuring out different amounts of herbs to pour into whatever it is he’s making. Sapnap is cooking their dinner without a single worry in the world, humming along to a tune only he can hear.

Dream occasionally looks up at them in intermittent pauses, pouring over a book on the loveseat. He’s grown to love reading through the witches’ selection of texts and tomes. There’s always something new to learn, to discover. Demons didn’t get much reading done, after all.

It’s so typical, so normal, so _peaceful_ that when his skin crawls, he knows something has gone terribly wrong. 

It’s the kind of feeling he only gets when he’s been thrust out of hiding and into the slimy grasp of the hunters once more, not when he’s sitting in George and Sapnap’s cabin. 

Dream jumps to his feet, the book dropping to the floor. George and Sapnap look over, concerned, but he doesn’t notice. He keeps his wide eyes on the door, shaking to his very core, as though waiting for something to jump out. 

“Dream?” Sapnap asks quietly, still stood at the oven. 

He doesn’t answer, listless. Dream’s mind whirrs. If he leaves now, maybe he can keep the hunters on his trail enough so they miss the cabin completely. He just needs to protect Sapnap and George. If he can just save them, then maybe it wasn’t all in vain. Every moment he spent here, every laugh they shared, every night curled between two bodies. 

George is in front of him now, waving a hand in front of his eyes. Dream sees his mouth move, but the ringing in his ears makes it hard to hear. He shakes his head to clear it.

“George,” he says, low in his throat. His arms come up to grip the other man’s shoulders tightly, maybe too tight, but that’s far from his greatest concern at the moment. George winces in discomfort. His eyes flick over to Sapnap. 

“You guys have to listen to me very carefully, okay? I’m- I’m a liar, okay? I’m not human. I’m a demon. I’m selfish, and I… I’m being hunted, and they’re here now. I’m gonna try to get them away from here, so don’t worry too much, alright?” 

And then Dream heads for the door, eyes shut tight. He doesn’t want to see their expressions. He doesn’t want to see the look of betrayal. 

A hand grabs his wrist, pulling him back from the door. 

Sapnap holds onto him tightly, expression determined. “Dream,” he murmurs. “We knew that this whole time.” 

He gapes. “What? Then why-“

Sapnap smiles. “We don’t care, we never did. So please, don’t go.”

Dream glances over at George. “But I… I’m putting you two in danger. Why aren’t you mad?”

George steps forward. “We can go fight them, all together. Three is better than one, right?”

He looks at them in anguish, despair and guilt curling up in his stomach. “I can’t get you two involved. If I run now, they’ll just chase after me. They won’t bother you. You two can be safe.”

Sapnap’s brows furrow. “We’re not helpless. We can fight.”

George comes closer, until they’re standing in a circle. “You don’t have to leave, Dream. It’s gonna be okay.” 

He feels like crying. It’s never been like this. He’s always been on his own, alone, just him and the demon hunters. But as Sapnap opens a closet and a crossbow falls out, Dream feels a little hope seep into his heart. 

But his head flies to the tree line as the bushes around the clearing rustle. “Quick,” George hisses at Sapnap. 

Sapnap lifts the crossbow up, ready and loaded, as shadowy figures filter out of the woods, armed with bows and crossbows and sharp objects of every sort. Dream has never been close enough to see their features. Demon hunters are more human in nature, but they’re bred for this exact reason - to hunt him down. They’re faster, stronger than normal humans.

There’s at least ten of them, if not more in the woods. It’s daunting. 

But Sapnap opens the door, crossbow pointed at the surrounding hunters. George and Dream follow, hands clasped together. 

“What business do you have here?”

“There’s a penalty for housing a demon, witch.”

Well. So much for playing dumb. 

“Leave immediately,” Sapnap spits out. “And don’t come back.”

“Hand over the demon, and no blood will be shed.”

George bristles by Dream’s side, releasing his hand to stand by Sapnap. “That’s not happening.”

The man stands in silence. And then he fires his crossbow, arrow headed straight for Sapnap’s heart, and Dream jumps forward, but even with his supernatural speed he’ll be too late-

With a flick of his fingers, George redirects the arrow to the side. It flies into a nearby tree with a solid _thunk._

The hunters take it like a war declaration, rushing forward into the clearing with knives thrust in front of their bodies. Dream loses sight of George and Sapnap, eventually, lost in battle with the hunters. He’s never fought them before, never even tried, but surprisingly, he’s able to hold his own. 

Dream knocks one out, and then another, head swiveling around to look for Sapnap and George. And there - on the other side of the clearing, they’re cornered by a considerably sized group. There were more hunters hiding in the woods than he thought, it seems. 

He takes a deep breath. It’s hopeless, really. Sapnap and George are backed against a tree, encircled by knives and arrows. The ones who saved him, who healed him, who gave him shelter. The people who taught him love, who taught him what it felt like to have a place to come home to. 

He wishes he could thank them. 

Dream grits his teeth, and then he’s leaping across the clearing, taking down a hunter at the back of the group. 

His claws tear out her throat, and her choked gargles bring the attention of the rest of the hunters around him. Dream stands, closing his eyes for a brief second.

And then, for the first time since he was a child, he drops his demon’s glamor and shows his true form. 

It feels like coming home. 

There’s a pregnant pause, and then Dream smiles, all pointed teeth. “Come and get me,” he says, and runs for the forest. 

The pounding of feet behind him lets him know his gamble was successful. George and Sapnap would be safe, now. 

He runs and runs, blazing through the forest, leaving a clear trail behind him. _Good,_ Dream thinks. _Let them find me._

And when he hears the pants of a hunter directly behind, arrows whizzing past, Dream pushes off a tree in front of him, barreling into the hunter and ripping into his throat with his teeth. 

The taste of blood is unpleasant and cloying, and he pulls away immediately. More hunters rush in, looking at him like he’s some savage animal. And maybe he is, blood dripping down from his teeth, pointed fingers flexing. 

But is it a crime for Dream to want to live? Was it so bad for him to just _exist?_

He takes down one, then another, and he grows more confident. _No,_ he decides. Dream has been prey his entire life. He was ripped away from his family by hunters, was pursued for years on end. This would be his final stand. 

Indignant rage lights within him. 

He tears his claws into another hunter, and she screams shrilly. He lunges for another, desperation burning a scorching fire in his stomach, and still, he doesn’t stop, reaching-

Something lodges in his chest. 

Oh, he thinks numbly. Dream looks down at the arrow that’s run straight through skin and bone numbly, hands coming up to touch. It’s sticky, bloody. He falls. 

He tastes dirt. He hears laughter, shouts. Dream doesn’t know what they’re saying. He can’t get up. Sapnap had been making dinner. He wonders if it’s burned yet. 

His fingers are tingly, numb. He tries to open his lips to speak, but it’s like his mouth has filled with cotton. 

_Oh._

He hears more screeches, shrill death cries. Fighting. Bodies hitting the earth. And finally, he hears a heart-wrenching, familiar sob. Hands turn his body over, gentle and shaking. The first thing he sees is George’s tear filled eyes. 

Sapnap is holding him to his chest. He’s saying something, but Dream can’t hear. He smiles. 

“Hi,” he says instead of replying to whatever Sapnap had said. His vision is going a little dark, now. And when Sapnap lifts him up, it goes black completely, for a moment. Painful. 

He hears whispers of words. _Love. Home. Heal. Okay. You. Don’t go. Need you._

Strange how they all sound like George. 

He blinks back into awareness when he’s laid on something soft, familiar. George is holding onto his hand tightly, crouched by his side as Sapnap rustles about the house. Dream’s faintly reminded of the first night he was there. 

“Please,” George whispers beside him. His face is wet. Dream wants to tell him it’s okay. That he’s okay. But every time he tries to open his mouth, the words come out garbled, wrong. It takes a moment, but he speaks.

“Thank you,” he pants, squeezing George’s hand weakly. 

George’s eyes narrow. “Don’t you dare fucking _thank me._ You can do that later.”

Sapnap returns with ointment, potions, and a lot of bandages. “We’re lucky demons don’t have hearts,” he says as he sits down. “Otherwise…”

Dream laughs, a small, hesitant thing, and immediately coughs up more blood. He thinks he’s dying. 

He can hear them urging him to not speak anymore, to try to save his strength, but he’s bleeding all over the couch and there’s an arrow stuck in his chest _and he hasn’t said everything he needs to say._

Dream lifts himself on his elbows, ignoring the spike of pain that lances through his entire body at the action and the witches’ protests. He feverishly turns to Sapnap and George, eyes alight. 

“You guys… gave me a home. You don’t - don’t understand what you’ve done for me. So, thank you,” he smiles, teeth still stained with blood. “And, I’m sorry. I know you two are… together, but still, I’m a selfish demon who _fell in love with both of you.”_

Their eyes widen. It’s silent, for a moment, void of movement. Dream shakes under his own weight. And then, Sapnap leans forward, a palm on Dream’s face. The hand holding Dream’s tightens. 

“We love you,” Sapnap says, and he’s dizzy. He falls back with a grin, but the room still spins. George’s face joins Sapnap’s overhead. “I love you, you idiot, so stay awake.” 

But Dream is tired. He’ll take a nap, and then he’ll get back to this conversation. It’ll be fine. A hand slaps across his face, stinging and sharp. He doesn’t even register it. 

_We love you, so don’t go._

His world fades to black.

…

Demons are born without hearts.

No one knows why, really. It’s just a well known fact that demons are heartless, unlovable creatures. 

For most people, anyway. 

Some people can look past the rumors, the superstition. Dream used to think they didn’t exist. 

His dreams are feverish, tumultuous. Dream lives through flashes of the past and present, and sometimes, he imagines he can even see the future. 

He sees his sisters, running behind him, swooped up by the shadows. His mother, black blood wetting the earth, like an ocean waiting to swallow him up. Dream runs, and runs, and runs, and then he reaches the clearing in the woods. George and Sapnap lay there, still. He reaches out, mouth opening to scream, but no sound comes out. 

It all fades to black once more, and then, he’s forced to live the nightmare all over again.

Dream wonders if he’s died and this is his own personal hell. It certainly feels like eternal suffering. 

But sometimes, the dreams shift. He’s wrapped in a warm embrace, touched by hands that love him. Soft, warm. The reprieve never lasts long. 

Eventually, the dreams don’t linger as long, don’t torture him as often. Soon, he briefly wakes. Sapnap is sitting on a chair beside him, head pressed against the mattress. He’s on the bed. His chest burns. 

Dream loathes to wake Sapnap, gingerly raising himself off of the bed. He grimaces at the soreness that covers his every limb, but he makes it up for a brief second before falling back with a graceless _oof._

Sapnap immediately snaps awake. “George,” he calls into the living room, “Dream’s awake!” 

He clutches onto Dream like a dying man, crowding around him without care. Dream winces. “Sapnap,” he mutters, “you’re crushing me.” 

He jumps back. “Sor-,” he says, but George throws the door open before he can finish, jumping onto the bed. He looks down at Dream for a moment, silent. Dream’s unsure of what to say. 

George breaks the silence. His expression is stricken. “You-“ He cuts himself off, shaking his head slowly.

“What?” Dream laughs, incredulous. 

“Just shut up.” And then, George kisses him. 

It takes a moment for Dream to process the feeling of lips on his own. It’s foreign, a new concept. But it's one he embraces all the same, leaning in as much as his battered body will permit.

They’re only pressed together for a few seconds, but it’s more than enough. Eventually, George leans back. Out of the corner of his eye, Dream spies Sapnap. He’s pouting, arms crossed as he stands to the side. George must notice too, because he laughs.

“What is it?” 

“You got to kiss Dream first,” Sapnap huffs playfully. Dream flushes. 

“It’s okay,” he says, “we have time, don’t we?”

Sapnap grins, all predatory and teeth. “Oh, do we. George and I will be fighting over you every day.”

What a thought that was. Dream just smiles, pressing his palms into his face. It doesn’t feel real. None of it. But with George and Sapnap each by his side, hands gently changing out his bandages and sifting through his hair, it’s hard to convince himself it’s not. 

Demons are not supposed to be able to feel, or so the myths say.

But in the gaping cavity where his heart should be, Dream has discovered what love feels like.

…

Phil and his sons visit once more several months later.

Tommy takes one look at Dream and smiles. “You know now, don’t you? What it feels like.”

“I do,” Dream says. 

He sits in silence as Tommy talks to the empty air he calls Tubbo, content.

…

_end._

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for making it to the end! kudos/comments are appreciated but not mandatory <3 also, im working on a sbi prequel to this story that is tommy focused for those who are interested so watch out for that! first mcyt fic pog


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